


Not a Perfect Person but a Good Friend

by BCorfman



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Disassociation, Dysphoria, Gen, sensory processing disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 15:31:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2433821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BCorfman/pseuds/BCorfman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has always had health issues. All the Super Soldier Serum did was lessen some and worsen others. Now he's decades from his life, his body, and anyone who knew him as Steve Rogers - not Captain America.<br/>How can he be a person if no one will let him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

The sun was still half an hour from rising, but Steve was outside. He’d taken to leaving his apartment as early as he could convince himself was reasonable; he usually couldn’t sleep anyway. And the regular pounding of his feet on the pavement was calming. He was in control of it, at least.

He was supposed to be used to this body by now; that’s what everybody seemed to think. But it was too much, sometimes. During the war he’d at least had something to focus on and distract him, and a sense of purpose.

Steve stopped after rounding the next corner. The wind was loud, and it rustled the leaves, sending little sparks into his head. When it was this quiet, even the small sounds could be deafening. That was why he’d been running. But the sky was starting to lighten, and he wanted to look at the leaves before it got too bright. Right now they were particularly stunning; fall was starting, and red and orange leaves were mixed in with green.

THUD, THUD, THUD

Steve flinched and turned around, flinging his hands up onto the side of his face. Static; but it helped, a little. Someone else was running here, too.

“Hey! Didn’t th-“ *BZZT*

“-yone else this-“

*BZZT* “-y”

Was he being talked to? There was no one else here. The leaves and wind had been bad enough, but the shouting in this otherwise quiet morning was making his ears buzz.

THUD, THUD, **THUD**

Steve hugged his shoulders tightly and scrunched up his eyes. It was getting brighter, and the noise made it brighter still.

“-right?”

The voice was right next to him now. He ran.

 

Sam blinked as the man ran off. Captain America?

“Well, these laps aren’t going to run themselves,” he muttered, and continued circling the reflecting pool.


	2. Chapter Two

Steve arrived back at his apartment shortly after sunrise, arm held up in front of his eyes to block out the light. He guided himself up the staircase, gripping the banister. The smooth wood felt good under his hands, and the regular interval of creases where the pieces were glued together helped him reorient. By the time he reached the top of the stairs, he could remove his arm long enough to find his door and get inside.

His room was small, and normally that bothered Steve, but today it wasn’t small enough. He crawled into bed and wrapped himself in his blanket. He thought about removing his clothes. Did he want to be looking at this body right now? But they were rubbing against his skin and it was getting worse.

He kicked the blanket and his shoes and socks off, and laid on his back, trying to regulate his breathing. The pants needed to go, too. And the shirt. He looked down; he wished he hadn’t. It was dark in here, as he usually kept the blinds drawn, but he could still see the body – he could still see how different it was from his body. Steve covered himself with the blanket again, wrapping it tightly. He needed to not feel so big. He needed to feel like he existed in the world. But no matter how close he pulled the blanket, he kept expanding - filling the room, filling the world, until he ceased to exist as a person. He rolled around on the bed.

It helped.


	3. Chapter Three

Natasha sighed. What was she getting herself into? This wasn’t her area, and she wouldn’t be doing it if she didn’t owe Fury. She didn’t know why he thought she was a good fit for this job. Rogers needed a therapist, not a military operative.  
She climbed the stairs. It was a mission, and she’d do it - she just might have words for Fury afterwards. Door was locked. She knocked – three times. A courtesy, of sorts.  
She did understand why Fury wanted him back, but why not just give him something to do? She’d fought with Rogers at New York. He was a hell of a soldier. But he had almost entirely stopped talking to her since then.  
“Captain. Will you get the door or will I have to get you?”  
He needed to feel occupied. It was obvious. She’d been there before.  
Natasha swung her arms. The past was not what she wanted to be thinking about. She had people who cared about her, now.

She forced her arms to her side as the door opened.  
“About time. We’ve got a mission.”  
“It’s been a while. What does Fury want us to do?”  
“Talk.”  
Natasha pushed past him. It was past noon, but the room was dark; heavy blinds were drawn up on every window. The only light came from a small lamp in a distant corner.  
Or it would, if sunlight wasn’t streaming in through the open door. But he seemed dazed.  
“Do you want to close the door, Rogers?”

It shut, noiselessly. Hinges were well-oiled. Figured.  
“What is this about?” Steve said, slumping against the door.  
“What do you think? You’ve barely left your room in the past week, Rogers. What if the Chitauri come back?”  
“Then I’ll fight them. You know I will. And you’ll fight them too. But they’re not back and I want to be left alone.”  
Natasha sat down. Rogers was visibly cringing. He definitely didn’t want her here.  
“You know I can’t leave. Ignore me if you want.”  
The blankets on his bed were a kicked-up mess and the sink was full of dishes. He probably didn’t want to be here, either. Maybe she’d bring one of her blankets. He might appreciate it.  
Rogers walked over to his desk and took out a typewriter. He stared at it for a while.  
“Are you going to write something?”  
Another cringe. Was Captain America anxious?  
Whatever it was, he didn’t respond. But he sat down, pulled out a piece of paper, and started typing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!  
> Thanks for looking at/liking this. This is a really important AU to me and I'm glad people seem to like it.
> 
> I'm not a writer, and I'm nervous about this chapter in particular, so if anyone has any thoughts or feedback I would love to hear


End file.
